Fourth Time for Everything
by starofoberon
Summary: Flashback to Aaron's first years at the BAU, and the relationship that grew with Jason Gideon. Fairly delicate slash, rated M to be on safe side.


A/N Received some suggestions that there might be Aaron/Gideon slash in "Scrambling for Altitude." It doesn't fit there at all, but now that the idea has been (cough) firmly planted in my head, there is this.

**A Fourth Time for Everything**

**First time**

He had to admit, guys had crossed his mind from time to time. He suspected that they crossed every guy's mind occasionally, and if they insisted that they didn't, well, then they _really_ thought about guys. But thinking about it and doing something about it were separate things. Furthermore, he was married and faithful. And 99% – well, 95% – of his fantasies were vividly and incontrovertibly hetero.

But he was seriously stressed out and thanks to a bureaucratic screwup, sharing a room (two double beds) with Jason Gideon, leader of the BAU team to which Hotchner had recently been transferred. And Gideon was one of the men he thought about from time to time, just in passing.

He had a couple drinks and he turned in. The much senior agent came in later. Aaron barely heard him undress, shower, climb into bed.

But he woke up in the night with an unaccustomed weight on his bed, and behind him. Part of what bothered him was that the weight was behind him. He and Haley habitually slept on their left sides, with him behind her, spooning into her curves.

"Relax," Gideon's voice told him before he could fly into a panic. "Just me."

Jason's right hand touched his right arm just below the sleeve of his tee. "I know that you think about me," he whispered. "It's all right, everyone wonders."

His first thought was, _I must have been talking in my sleep_, but he was a light sleeper and he usually woke himself up if he started to talk in his sleep.

"I wonder about you, too," Jason said. His hand slid down Aaron's upper arm to his elbow, then to his waist. Aaron felt Gideon's warm breath against the back of his neck.

It was hard to tell what scared him the most: the come-on in the night, the fact that he was the least senior and Jason the most senior man on the team, or that a part of him wanted to know what would happen if he took that step.

"I'm married," he finally whispered. It said everything and nothing.

Gideon's hand brushed his chest. His fingers lit a trail of fire along the waistband of his shorts. "That's fine," he whispered back. "I was just asking."

His hand was gone, and in a few seconds, the alien weight left his bed.

In the morning, Gideon acted perfectly normal. Hotchner's most intense scrutiny could detect no sign that Jason was looking at – or thinking about – him.

He wondered whether he had dreamed it.

**Second time**

They did not have occasion to share a room again for more than two years.

Then came a case where everything about it was horrendous. The crime. The weather. The lack of local support. The boneheaded idiocy of the media. Their own profile, way off, miles off.

Everyone stumbled to bed in the small motel not caring that they had to share rooms. Hotch was again paired with Gideon.

He thought about that. Wondered whether it had been a dream. Wondered, if it had really happened, what would have happened if he had not stopped Gideon. Wondered whether, if it did happen, it might happen again that night.

Wondered whether, if it did, he would stop it again this time.

His and Haley's marriage was in a rough patch at the moment – not that that ever justified infidelity, but it certainly increased his stress levels.

This time, Jason did not go out, not even to seek a game of chess. He wrote in his little journal, did some paperwork, and went to bed before Aaron, who kept reviewing the case file over and over, trying to identify the point at which everything had gone so dreadfully wrong.

When he finally crashed, he crashed hard.

He woke up to feel confident hands massaging the knotted muscles in his neck and shoulders. He jerked and made some kind of noise.

"Shh," Gideon said. "Just relax. You've been thrashing around and grinding your teeth. That isn't good for anyone."

He knew that it was true. Haley complained about it, too. It only happened when he felt utterly helpless and miserable, usually about the job, about innocent lives lost because he didn't think fast enough or accurately enough, or sometimes because he just had no idea what he had been thinking.

He relaxed.

Gideon tugged at the back edge of his tee. "Lose it," he whispered.

With more than a little trepidation, he peeled off his shirt and rolled to his stomach.

Gideon straddled him and gave him a massage that he had to admit was beyond wonderful. Aaron moaned and clutched at the bedclothes as the sweet pleasure-pain drained the tension from his body.

Hotch felt the elder agent lean forward, his absolute Brillo pad of a chest brush against his naked back, the weight of Gideon's genitals through his pajama bottoms resting on the small of his back. "There you go," he whispered in Aaron's ear.

He murmured a drowsy _thank you_.

"No problem." Gideon climbed off him and returned to his own bed.

He almost whispered, _wait_, but he couldn't quite say it. He reached over the side of the bed and located his tee shirt, pulled it back over his head backward and inside out, too rattled to bother getting it right, and fell asleep still wondering whether the first encounter had been a dream.

Again, in the morning, nothing about Gideon's demeanor seemed the slightest bit different.

He decided that the earlier incident had definitely been a dream – which left him feeling both relieved and oddly disappointed.

**Third time**

Not three months later, they wound up once again sharing a room. This time, although they had only arrived that day, they had made substantial progress. They had a whole bouquet of leads to follow in the morning. He and Gideon each had a couple glasses of wine and played gin rummy. Gideon won, but not by much. Aaron extended his hand with a grin. "Well played, sir."

Jason laughed and offered to cut for first shower. Aaron won the cut.

When he returned from the bathroom in his boxers and tee, he thought for a heartbeat that Gideon was looking at him, going to speak to him, but he wasn't; he was beginning a yawn.

He climbed beneath the covers. Jason turned off the lights; he never had any trouble finding his way from the bathroom to his bed in the dark. Aaron found himself hoping, however fleetingly, that Jason would find his way into the wrong bed, just so Hotch could stop wondering whether that first evening had ever happened.

Jason found the right bed, murmured good night, Aaron eventually drifted off to sleep, wondering if he would spend the rest of his life worrying at that dream, if it was a dream.

This time, he awakened when he felt the weight pattern shift on the mattress. He hardly dared to breathe and he had no idea what he would do, what he would say.

Again, the warm, familiar hand on his upper arm. "You're thinking about me," Gideon whispered. "I can tell."

The imp side of Hotchner wanted to say _Of course I'm thinking of you, you're in my bed_, but instead he tried to master his thundering heart. He licked his lips and said, "Yes."

"Good," Jason said. "I've been thinking about you, too."

Instead of sliding down his arm, Gideon's fingers crept up, into his sleeve, up toward his shoulder. Having Jason's hand under his clothing and touching him was a significantly different thing from Jason massaging his bare shoulders and back. It was – covert.

Illicit.

Arousing.

Jason settled himself behind Hotch, his fingers exploring only his arm and shoulder, his warm breath against his neck. Neither of them said a word, nor did either attempt to move closer.

After a while, the fingers slid back down his arm, along his waist. Slipped under his tee and gently explored Aaron's chest, swirling the patches of hair around his nipples, tracing his ribs. Aaron bit his lip; he would no longer be able to hide his wildly thudding heartbeat from Gideon. He didn't mean to make a sound, but he did, a faint whimper that was half apprehension, half anticipation.

He shivered slightly as Jason's lips touched the back of his neck.

"This is a first time for you, isn't it?"

"Yes," he managed to breathe.

"Don't be afraid," Jason whispered. "Everything will be fine."

Hotch thought of Haley, thought of his vows, thought of his responsibilities, his career, his reputation. Told himself he had to stop this, now.

Gideon's hand played along his stomach and traced the waistband of his shorts.

"What do you want from me?" Aaron managed to breathe.

"Just to touch you. Shush. Everything will be fine."

A confident hand brushed gently across the front of his boxers and he hissed as, through the fabric, Gideon's fingers made the briefest possible contact with the erection that made a lie out of any protest he would dare to make.

"You liked that?"

"Mmm." It was all he could manage now.

Gideon scooted still closer, so close that Aaron felt that dense cloud of fur on Jason's chest against his back.

Gideon had been reaching around Aaron's arm, but now he lifted it slightly so it rested on his own. His fingers crept down the front of Aaron's boxers again and slid into the fly opening.

Hotch cried out involuntarily, so tense, so anxious, that he was beyond words.

He was long past his teen years. It was embarrassing how quickly, how unexpectedly, those gentle adventuring fingers brought him to a climax. He leaned back against Gideon, panting, fighting to get his breath back.

Jason gave a low chuckle and kissed the back of his neck. "Wait right here," he said.

_What have I done? What did I let him do?_

Gideon returned from the bathroom with a warm wash cloth. Still in the dark, he cleaned Aaron up. Then he pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're beautiful, Aaron," he said. "Sleep well."

And he was gone, back to his own bed and very soon asleep, his breathing slow and even.

Aaron lay awake for he had no idea how long, curled up almost fetally, reliving each touch, each tingle, each shiver, like an adolescent girl reliving her first kiss. And, like an adolescent girl, he found himself wondering whether Gideon would lose interest in him now that Aaron had ceded control to him. Like the boys who lose interest in a girl after she puts out.

These thoughts, these fears, did nothing to reassure him.

**Fourth time**

Gideon seemed capable of acting as if nothing had happened. For the first few hours of the next day, Hotchner found it profoundly difficult to meet his superior's gaze or answer him coherently. He stammered, lost his place, and generally felt like a fool. Part of it was embarrassment at violating his marital vows. Part of it was a fear that rocked him to his core when he finally identified it: He was afraid that now that Gideon had had his way, he wouldn't want him anymore.

He finally pulled himself together, but he still found himself subject to random pink cheeks as the day progressed.

After dinner, he returned to their temporary headquarters and reviewed some data again, then went for a long walk, only turning back when it started to rain.

He returned to the room to find Gideon showered and in his usual pajama bottoms – the man apparently never wore a shirt to bed - sitting in an armchair and reading the newspaper. "Glad you're back," he said. "You're wet."

Aaron nodded idiotically. "It's raining."

Gideon looked at him over his half-glasses. "That would do it."

He hung his suit to dry and took a long, hot shower. He considered a long cold shower, but, hell, there was no reason for Gideon to visit him again: he had already identified Aaron for what he really was, an unfaithful, spineless man with premature ejaculation problems.

_Fuck it. You're taking this much too seriously._

He dried his hair and put on his shirt and boxers.

When he returned to the cool air of the room, Gideon was sitting up in bed, reading the sports section. His bedside lamp was the only illumination in the room. He set the paper aside and smiled at Aaron. He patted the mattress beside him and said, "Come here."

It was so weird. As Aaron stared at his superior and realized that he was going to go to Jason, whatever the man had in mind, a little part of him died – and a little part of him came to life.

_I can't figure this out._

The seven feet or so between the bathroom door and Jason's side seemed an insurmountable distance. He put one foot in front of another, another, another, scarcely breathing.

"Sit down."

Aaron sat down sideways, facing Gideon. He made himself meet the man's gaze. Jason drew the covers back and said, "Come on in."

He slid in tentatively under the sheets. As always, he was on the left, Gideon on the right. Unfamiliar orientation. Imbalance of power.

Jason lay back on his pillow. "Aaron, will you please kiss me?"

Aaron half-sat up, leaning on his elbow. It was so different with a light on, with his eyes open, with no possible wiggle room to pretend it hadn't happened.

He touched the lined face, the noble nose, the deeply furrowed brow of the man upon whom his career success depended.

"Stop," Gideon said. "I see it in your eyes. You can stand up and walk away now, and it will change nothing between us. Aaron, you're a fine agent – more potential in a new profiler than I've seen in years, and I'm proud to call you my friend. Your success is not contingent on–" He waved a hand vaguely. "On this. Don't do it if you–"

Impulsively Aaron shut the Unit Chief up with a kiss on the mouth, firm, determined. Committed. And, eh, a little clumsy. When he pulled back, Gideon's eyes glowed.

"Ohh," he breathed. "Oh, my goodness, Aaron." He read Aaron's face with his fingers. "So beautiful."

Aaron bent again, still a little shy and thrown off by how different Gideon's mouth was from Haley's, but willing to learn. Jason stroked his cheekbones. He tangled the fingers of his left hand into Gideon's thick chest hair. Both of them gave a little, their lips parting. No tongues – just a little bit of surrender on both sides.

He rested his brow against Gideon's. "I'm definitely in new territory here. I have no idea what to do."

"What do you want to do?"

_Christ, how do I answer that one?_

"I don't know," he confessed. "I – I know some things I don't want to do, things I don't want to, to be done to me–"

"Shush." Gideon's voice was gentle and understanding. He rolled to his left side."Then let's just stick with what we know, shall we? Lie back down, Aaron, and relax. No, turn around and face me."

He obeyed with a nervous laugh. "You make me sound braver than I am."

Gideon chuckled. "Which part of _Shush_ weren't you clear on? Here – I think I recall that you like – oh, yes you do! You definitely like that!" Aaron gasped, stiffened, and reached out reflexively for Gideon's hip. Once his hand was there, once his chief had reduced him to hushed moans of need, he gathered his courage and let his fingers slide down to the (frankly, a little scary) protrusion in Gideon's pajamas.

Gideon's eyes widened and he gave a long sigh. "Ohh, now, you see – you've already learned something new, and, oh, my," He paused to catch his breath. "You – I must say, you show great promise."

Glimpsing a return to a balance of power, Aaron slipped his fingers into the fly of Jason's pajamas. Watching Gideon wince and arch at his touch was impossibly exciting, empowering. It made his own body quiver, made the fear dissipate.

Made the wondering stop.


End file.
